


crisp trepidation

by strawberrylipstick



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Feels, Child Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Protective Sokka (Avatar), Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, background Aang/Katara - Freeform, fuck ozai, yes the title is from fine line
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 07:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24467497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrylipstick/pseuds/strawberrylipstick
Summary: Here’s the thing -- it’s always been Zuko, Zuko with his fucking smirk and weirdly bright topaz eyes and scarred face, getting under his skin like nobody else. Some say there’s an air of mystery surrounding him, but Sokka knows his true nature. He’s just an asshole, plain and simple.Basically, Sokka is quite unprepared to learn about what dark forces surround the temperamental golden boy. And both of them are definitely not ready to fall in love with each other.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 164





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i'm excited to start this high school AU (: my tumblr is @godly-styles if you want to send me anything.

Sokka is athletic. Anyone who disagrees has not seen his talent on a basketball court, or a soccer field, or during arm-wrestling matches with Aang (maybe not the ones with his sister, but that’s beside the point). He’s an all-rounder when it comes to sports -- the fastest runner in this school, and today he will prove it.

The harsh, white sun is blinding, and he blinks in an attempt to clear the black spots dancing around his vision. Nothing can go wrong today. It’s integral. Calming himself is hard, considering the anticipation before a race is the worst...or maybe, Sokka muses, it’s the sand; kicked from the ripped soles of runners’ trainers, penetrating eyes, eyes needed to run. Eyes needed to _win_. Shit.

The guy next to him has giant feet and can’t. stop. stomping. With a scowl on his face, Sokka taps his back; he is not prepared for the sight. It’s pretty unwise, Sokka _just_ realizes, to provoke some seven foot, burly senior on game day.

“Is there a problem?” the giant, reeking of uncontrolled testosterone, asks menacingly (Sokka swears he can see smoke coming out from his nose). 

“Nope, no problem, nothing at all.” Sokka laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, I just thought there was a bee on you.” 

Trollface huffs. He stomps his feet again, and this time the sand enters Sokka’s mouth as well. He’s still watching him angrily, so in an attempt to make peace, Sokka’s coughing fit ends quickly and he says, “Good luck! Um, thanks for the sand taste-test. Would be a little better with some gravel, but oh well. Blame it on the low funding.” He elbows him gently, which also proves to be unwise, for Sokka is quickly on the ground.

“I don’t need luck, twiggy,” Trollface tells him, waves of heat surrounding his mean face. “You do. But real athletes do not.”

Sokka swallows a painful lump in his throat. It’s mortifying on the ground, but somehow cooler, so he lays there for a few moments until the coach blows the whistle right in his ear.

“Pick yourself up, Sokka!” Coach Piandao demands.

“Not much to pick up,” he can hear Trollface remark. Angrily, Sokka lifts himself up, wiping the sand from his shirt and knees. His name being cheered from the stands redirects his attention. Suddenly, he’s filled with warmth, unrelated to the hot weather. 

The banner of his face might not be entirely accurate (seriously, who drew that? Toph?) but it’s the gesture that matters. His friends are here to support him. While the other two are cheering, Katara’s pointing to someone, and Sokka’s eyes trail to the corner of the stands. Oh God, it’s his father, walking to Sokka’s friends while animatedly talking on the phone (he can tell him from the hand gestures).

Hakoda is an extremely busy man, so his appearance means that Katara, the pride and jewel of the family, must’ve begged him to come today. It may add more pressure on Sokka, but it means a lot. Truly. He flashes his sister a grateful smile, which she returns.

“Remember, Sokka,” Coach Piandao implores as cheers become louder; a tell-tale sign that the match is extremely soon, “agility and skill. You have both.”

Sokka nods. The coach squeezes his shoulder one last time, then retreats to the shady corner where he stands, shiny whistle in hand. He takes two deep breaths, rubs the sandy ground with his feet. Coach is right. Whereas Trollface might have muscles that are useless for track, Sokka doubts he’s prepared as strongly as Sokka has been for months. This, this is his chance. Even his father is here today.

So, yeah. Sokka feels good. The heat isn’t even bothering him anymore. He looks toward the stands again, where his friends stand, cheering his name. And then there’s Coach Piandao with his silent support. Everything is in place. The only obstacle is his own self-esteem. Nothing else, no one else, especially not --

“Zuko!” Coach Piandao’s voice startles Sokka, the man’s surprise bringing him out of confident fog. “You’re still competing?”

“Of course, Coach. Sorry for the late registration.” The boy flashes him a smile, before bending over to tie his shoes. And of course, when he fucking looks up, all Zuko does is smirk at Sokka’s outraged expression. 

Oh, fuck no.

Sokka looks away and swallows, the painful lump returning. He plays with his tied-up hair as he wills himself to calm down, but it’s pretty hard to do. Because of course. Of course, of course, of course. The golden boy has to return to the world of sports on what’s supposed to be Sokka’s day.

Sokka prides himself on being a fairly adjustable person. He can deal with low self-esteem and jerks like Trollface and the general shittiness that comes with attending high school, but that floppy-haired piece of shit is unbearable.

Here’s the thing -- it’s always been Zuko, Zuko with his fucking smirk and weirdly bright topaz eyes and scarred face, getting under his skin like nobody else. Some say there’s an air of mystery surrounding him, but Sokka knows his true nature. He’s just an asshole, plain and simple.

Sokka glances at him again, a scowl on his face to showcase malice. Zuko, however, seems undeterred, tying his messy hair into a bun. He even has the audacity to wave at Sokka, a cheery grin on his stupid face. “I started the man bun trend, y’know,” Sokka informs Trollface angrily, who obviously does not give a fuck.

Crescent-shaped bruises form on Sokka’s arm as he pinches himself angrily. This is practically the fifth grade science fair all over again...

_Now, his sister may be the smarter sibling, but young Sokka enjoyed learning about animals. Mom loved them too, from butterflies to buffalos, and her recent demise spurred his eleven-year-old self to work hard. He imagined the proud smile on his father’s face as he worked with a hot glue gun for hours. Sokka had even re-painted the porch of Gran-Gran’s house so he could borrow her fog machine to beautify his very own, original ecosystem._

_It was so intricate that even grief-stricken Hakoda offered words of praise and every judge was impressed. Sokka was quite sure he’d won -- that was until princely Zuko strutted in, that insufferable holier-than-thou look on his face, with a fucking, generic volcano in his hands. Seriously. A volcano! There must’ve been a thousand volcanoes in that fair, but Zuko bested all of them -- bested Sokka._

_He used a clever move, enlisting his intelligent younger sister, Azula, as an awe-struck little girl wanting to learn about “magic.”_

_“No,” Zuko ‘corrected’ gently, kneeling and handing her a red lollipop, “this is all science, nature. The elements working together in harmony.”_

_“What are you talking about?!” Sokka demanded, storming to the area of Zuko’s project. “You’ve only made a project about one element! Mine is a whole ecosystem. You’re just lazy!”_

_“You know, Sokka, for a boy with such big eyes, you’re just as blind as your little friend.” It was so tempting to slap the sneer off his face. “I didn’t just create a volcano. I created a whole island, which is also an ecosystem, just like your -- what is that? A rainforest?”_

_“I especially like the details done in the ocean,” one of the judges remarked, scribbling in his clipboard._

_Zuko bowed lightly. “Thank you, sir. It’s modeled after Ember Island, where my father owns a beach-house. You must’ve heard of that vacation destination, haven’t you? He’s actually looking for someone to look after the mansion because we’re not quite sure if we can make it this summer.”_

_“Oh, really?” The judge’s interest suddenly piqued. “Er, Ember Island, you say --”_

_“WHATEVER!” Sokka yelled, flailing his arms around. “So, you created an island with a volcano, but I made a forest with a waterfall.”_

_“Looks more like a swamp to me,” Zuko said, smiling._

_“And smells like tap water.” Azula’s nose wrinkled._

_To his horror, Sokka felt tears prick his eyes. “Does it matter?” he said thickly. “Mine was done with no help, and I’m not using my little sister to act all cutesy.”_

_“That’s a shame.” Zuko laughed, reached behind the project and presented a shiny blue ribbon. “Perhaps if you had, you could’ve won first place.” He looked at Sokka’s station and his voice dropped. “Second...Not bad for a student from a low socio-economic background.”_

_“I’m going to kill --” Sokka reached over to him, but all that had to be done was a press of one button. A loud boom, and then he was covered head to toe in orange gunk._

_“Looks like my volcano exploded,” Zuko remarked calmly as Sokka wiped the paint from his eyes. Around him, people were laughing, including the judges. “Sorry about that...”_

The shrill whistle snaps Sokka out of his recollection. His legs begin to move subconsciously, and as Sokka adjusts to his anger, he realizes it’s fuel. This is what will drive him to win. Right next to him is Zuko, his long, pale legs almost touching his. His smirk has stayed the same all these years, once again reminding Sokka of that science fair; the only difference being the ugly burn marring one side of his face.

Sokka flips him off and runs even faster. Because this time, Zuko will not win.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Zuko wins.

“You were so close, Sokka,” Katara implores earnestly. Her hand gently rests on his shoulder; he pulls away irritatedly. “Oh, c’mon. You got second place!”

Sokka doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. The scowl on his face is enough to drive Aang and Toph away, any plans of grabbing some pizza after the race now gone. Only Katara and his father remain, but that’s because they all have to get into the same car.

“Dad, tell him.” Katara’s voice is stern as she nudges their father gently. Sokka rolls his eyes and wishes their car was easier to find.

Hakoda looks up from his screen for a moment, glances at his daughter’s expression, then continues to text. “You did great, son.”

“No, I didn’t!” Sokka snaps. 

“It was close!” Katara slaps her forehead. “God, Sokka, you don’t have to win every time.”

“When have I ever won, Katara? I’m not like you, I don’t excel at every freakin’ subject, and get the ‘distinguished, honorable’ principal’s award --”

Hakoda looks up again. “Principal’s award, Kat? Isn’t that something?” He grins at her, while Katara glares in response.

“Not the time, Dad --”

Sokka gets distracted by a silver, roofless Mercedes, however. Tycoon Ozai’s spawn chortle at him from their seats. One of Zuko’s hands are in the air in another mocking wave, the other resting lazily on the spotless steering wheel.

“Keep consoling him, Katara! He needs it,” Azula says, leaning over the open windows.

“Hakoda sir, how’re you?” Zuko calls out, his raven hair flying dramatically in the breeze. Hot rage fills him up and before his father can respond, Sokka’s already in front of the car.

Zuko slams the breaks and faces him angrily. “Do you want me to destroy you for the second time today, Sokka?”

“You’re a dirty liar.” Sokka’s eyes narrow. “You purposefully made it seem like you wouldn’t participate today. I bet you staged that rumor around the whole school.”

“Aw, are you insinuating you would’ve trained harder if you knew I was going to come and, pardon my language Hakoda sir, beat your ass?” He laughs, full of vindictive mirth. “Really, Sokka, it’s touching that your life has always revolved around me.”

Sokka’s not surprised if his face is swollen with anger. “You know, Zuko, I see right through you. Everyone else might worship you because they think you’re so talented and pretty or whatever the fuck, but I know. I know you’re just a little daddy’s boy who’s had everything handed to him. You always fake injuries, this time was no different, you do it to create some dramatic effect when you return. And you know why? Because you’re a liar. A liar and a fake.”

He feels immense satisfaction when the gold flecks in Zuko’s eyes fade into black, a sign that the boy is actually really mad. And when Zuko gets mad, he blows up. He gets away with it every time, thanks to his goddamned privilege, but Sokka will make sure this outburst will be big news.

Ignoring Katara’s warnings, Sokka continues, trying to deliver the final blow: “Remember when your mom left, Zuko? D’you think it had anything to do with your father and the stick up his ass?”

He regrets the words as soon as it comes out of his mouth. Zuko’s snarl conveys no mercy, and the car begins to move --

“Brother!” Azula’s hand grips his wrist. The Mercedes stops immediately. “You _cannot_ be serious. You’re falling into his pathetic attempts to provoke you into running him over.” She addresses Sokka directly, the sneer on her face more dangerous than her brother’s. “Your mediocre talent still won’t shine if you’re in the hospital and my brother is expelled and arrested.”

There’s a beat of silence before Zuko demands: “Get the fuck out of my way. NOW. Or I’ll make sure your father can never get employed again. You’re forgetting the sheer power my father and the stick up his ass holds in this city.”

“Sokka, get your ass over here,” Hakoda hisses, suddenly alert.

“Fine,” he mumbles, heart racing. The hot air has formed into an evening chill, cutting through Sokka’s thin tunic, the green one he thought he would finally have his victory in. As the expensive vehicle speeds away and Katara begins to join in with his father’s angry words, Sokka mulls over the ingrained image of Zuko’s black pupils. It’s unnerving now.

Before he enters the car, Sokka throws his silver medal onto the cement.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Despite the vast collection of trophies, medals and certificates he’d gotten over the years (still not enough to rival Azula’s), Zuko isn’t over the high of winning. 

Common sense warned him not to compete today. He’s still recovering from his...latest injury, and to lose after being named MVP in every sport two years in a row would be a great humiliation. Everyone knows he’s the fastest boy in school, but this race, he’s proven he’s the fastest boy even with...leg complications.

Now he’s sitting on his dimly-lit balcony. The city beneath him is dotted with lights, casting an orange glow on his pale face. Zuko’s victories derive from being alone. All he needs to do is think -- think about tennis strategies, mathematical equations for advanced placement classes, drawn-out wars, and he’ll be prepared to face whatever -- and win. Zuko can face everything.

The problem is, though, Zuko’s mind isn’t in productive mode. His moody thoughts keep trailing back to irrelevant things, irrelevant people. Which means he’s mulling over Sokka.

That’s nothing new, of course; that boy somehow worms his way into his mind, infuriating every bone in his body. Sokka isn’t blessed with extraordinary intellect (his sister is Zuko’s academic rival), nor is he too great at sports (sure, he won second place against Zuko today, but that’s exactly it -- second place). Yet, despite being overwhelmingly average and annoying, he’s found a way to become one of the many banes in Zuko’s existence. Perhaps even the biggest one.

He’s been able to laugh off Sokka’s taunts by insulting him even further, or ganging up on him with some of Zuko’s annoyingly loyal supporters, but today he pressed a nerve. Sokka’s mention of his mother took him back to the fifth grade science fair. It really fucking pissed him off...

_Zuko’s dad didn’t usually come to events like these. His mother, however, liked to. She dropped them a bit late, citing a PTA meeting as some excuse, but she forgot that Zuko isn’t a little boy anymore. He can see it all. The red-rimmed eyes and the mascara stains and the smudged lipstick, as if she’d been in a rush to reapply it._

_Azula saw it too. Unlike Zuko, however, she didn’t find it disturbing._

_“Father needs to stop yelling at Mom,” Zuko whispered to Azula as they exited the car. His island, which he’d spent hours working on, stood proud. A pang of sadness hit him when he realized his dad would probably never see it._

_“He’s a busy man,” Azula said, rolling her eyes. “He probably just told her to shut up when she was trying to convince him to come to this lame thing.”_

_“What’re you two turtleducks whispering about over there?” Ursa smiled. Any melancholy on her face was replaced with her infectious grin. She ruffled their hair and both of them groaned._

_“I’m far too old to be called a turtleduck,” Azula grumbled. Her voice became louder as she continued, “Besides, I don’t want to be here. It’s not like Zuko will win anyways.”_

_“Mom!” he whined. “Tell her that’s not true.”_

_“You did a very great job with your island, Zuzu. It deserves first place in my eyes, but even if the judges don’t reward you with that ribbon, that doesn’t mean you’re no less of a winner.”_

_“Yes it does,” Azula interrupted as they entered the gymnasium. “You better make Father proud today, or this’ll be a waste.”_

_“He’s not even here,” Zuko said dumbly, but he realized she was right. “Well…”_

_“Zuzu --” Ursa began disapprovingly, but her phone rang. When she took it out and saw who was calling, her lips pursed. “Kids, it’s your father. This might take me awhile. Please don’t get into trouble.”_

_Zuko barely noticed her exit. He was too engrossed over Azula’s words, and as he set his project on the table, his voice dropped to a whisper. “Listen, Azula, in order for me to win you have to give some charm.”_

_“And why would I do that?” she said, bored._

_“For Father. To make him happy. If I win --”_

_“I’ve already won plenty.”_

_“Listen!” Zuko said loudly. Two judges looked his way and he cleared his throat. “Listen. If I win, then Father’ll be happy, then Mom. Don’t you want them to quit fighting for once?”_

_“They’re not much of fights as they are of Dad putting Mom in her place, but whatever. You owe me one.” Being in his little sister’s debt is never a good thing, but Zuko was happy anyways, for the combination of Zuko’s talent, Azula’s adorableness, and hints of his father’s money rendered him a winner. Of course, Sokka tried to dampen his victory, but it didn’t work. Bless Azula and her clever mind, for as the street scum actually reached over to harm Zuko, she pressed the explosion button, and Sokka was covered with thick orange paint._

_“Looks like my volcano exploded,” Zuko said. It was a really funny sight, but laughing seemed too childish; as Father told him, it’s cruel sophistication that takes you places. So he smiled instead. “Sorry about that.”_

_Sokka said nothing and scurried off to his little sister, who was glaring daggers at Zuko. He rolled his eyes, but stopped when he saw his mother walk over._

_“Mom!” he said happily, running over. “Is Father really not coming? Because I got first place -- I won, Mom!”_

_“Oh, that’s excellent!” she hugged Zuko, her flowery scent enveloping him. They broke apart after she noticed Azula laughing. Her eyes trailed to Sokka, who was drying himself with paper towels with the help of his sister._

_“Your volcano exploded?” Ursa said, unimpressed._

_“Well. Yes.” He shuffled guiltily._

_“On that boy, Zuko?”_

_“Mom, Azula did it. Besides, he was being a jerk and it was funny. Anyways --”_

_“I have to have a long conversation with her. Zuko, you need to go apologize to him.”_

_“Why would he need to say sorry? He won.” Azula walked over, her arms crossed. “I’m not apologizing either.”_

_Ursa gritted her teeth. “Young lady -- fine. Fine. Zuko,” she nudged him, “Go say sorry. He’s right there and he looks very upset.”_

_Zuko looked at his sister, then his mom. Both were carrying matching faces of disapproval, but Azula’s stare resembled their father’s a bit more. At the thought of Ozai, Zuko stiffened and shook his head._

_“I’m not apologizing, Mom. I won. Aren’t you happy?”_

_“I am.” Ursa looked away. “But I’m disappointed, Zuko. You’re becoming more and more like your father everyday.”_

_“That’s not an insult!” Azula exploded. “What do you do for this family that Father doesn’t do? If he was aware, he’d support Zuko.” She rolled her eyes. “We’re better off with just Father anyways.”_

_“Azula!” Zuko said, scandalized. But Ursa just nodded and slowly walked out of the gymnasium. Suddenly, his eyes were stinging as she watched her leave._

_“Come on, brother. The judges want to take a photo with you.” Azula pulled on his shirt, and Zuko followed her blindly. It was as if he could taste dread, for his sister’s words became true just weeks later…_

Screw Sokka. He got him feeling guilty over something that happened years ago. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was such a guiltless party -- like today. He’d accused him for faking his leg injury when that certainly wasn’t the case. So Zuko trying to run him over was pretty good retribution. 

The glass sliding door suddenly opens, startling him. He turns around to see his sister, a haughty and bored expression on her face.

“It’s Father on the phone,” she says.

Zuko swallows. “Oh.”

“Well?” Azula snaps impatiently. “Are you going to talk?”

“Is he still mad… at me?” Zuko asks lamely, but he can’t help it. He’s in no mood to try and converse with his father when he’s in a worse mood than usual.

His sister just stares at him with raised eyebrows, so he gets up and grabs the phone. Zuko realizes his palms are sweaty. There’s silence on the other line so he says, “Father.”

“Zuko.”

“How’s Alaska?” he asks, both of them knowing damn well Zuko does not care.

“Cold,” Ozai says shortly, getting straight to it, “Azula tells me she was honored with the principal’s award for her grade today. I’m making a very realistic assumption by saying you didn’t get the same, yes?”

“I was close,” Zuko says, hating the way his voice rises. “I was very close, but you know that Katara girl—”

“Enough with the excuses.” 

The silence is thick and heavy until he apologizes. “I’m sorry, Father. I promise that next year I’ll do better.”

“Hm.” A discontented sigh escapes his father’s lips. “And your sister also tells me you had a run-in with Hakoda’s son?”

Of course Azula would neglect to mention the fact why. That boy was just mad Zuko had beat him in a race. “Well, yeah. He thinks he’s all-that, just like his father,” Zuko sneers, “they’re a hungry family, not like you -- haven’t worked hard a day in their lives --”

“I can make a little...recommendation to Hakoda’s boss. If deemed necessary.”

Zuko mulls this over. He’s heard of how Sokka’s moved from the “bad side” of town to the wealthier financial district just this year, thanks to his father’s promotion. Wouldn’t it be funny if him and his know-it-all sister had to pack up their things again. He thinks of Sokka’s words today, but then the image of his wide blue eyes pop in his head.

“That won’t be, Father.” Zuko runs a hand through his hair. “I can get my comeuppance myself. I already did, erm -- I beat him today. I rejoined track and I won the first race, despite my…” His voice drops. “Despite my leg injury.”

“Is that what you’re calling it? An injury?” Ozai tuts. “Think of it as a reminder, Zuko. You are my first-born, my only son. Your constant disappointments render consequences.”

Zuko unconsciously touches the red burn that surrounds his eye. “Right.” He swallows. “Right, sir, you’re right. I won’t disappoint you anymore.”

His father laughs. “We’ll see. Hand the phone to Azula, will you? I want to know when her award ceremony is so I can fly back on time.”

Zuko does so. His sister has that smirk on her face, the _I’m-actually-loved-by-our-father_ gloat. So he retreats back to the balcony without eating dinner, standing and letting the breeze hit his scarred face. There he is again, alone. It fuels his victories, for Zuko can face everything. Everything, except his father. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, thank you so much for reading! hope you all are liking it so far.

  
“So…was he really going to run you over?”

Sokka’s probably heard this question from this person at least six times today. Everybody groans as he opens his mouth to answer again.

“Aang, I told you already. I’m not bullshitting -- ask Katara.” The silver-eyed boy smiles and turns toward Sokka’s sister, a sappy smile on his face as she recounts her explanation again.

“Yes, Aang,” Katara sighs, “like I said many times prior, Sokka said some mean words, and Zuko was about to fatally maim my brother.”

Toph considers this silently, then speaks up after she stirs her salad. “Y’know, that seems unhinged. Even for Zuko.”

“He _is_ unhinged,” Sokka says bitterly. “He just gets away with it because he’s conventionally attractive or whatever…” He clears his throat. “I guess his mother’s departure is a really touchy subject. Who would’ve thought?” The joke doesn’t do much for his friends, who just blink back at him, clearly unimpressed.

“Well… you shouldn’t have said those things.” Katara’s diplomatic statement cuts short when anger replaces her words. “But he is such a jerk. Like seriously, running you over?”

“Well, he didn’t end up doing so,” Aang pipes up. His chronic optimism physically pained Sokka sometimes.

“Yeah, thanks to his psychotic sister who stopped him at the last moment.” Sokka pokes at his chicken moodily. “You’d think she’d be into that sort of thing.”

“Think it was more because he didn’t want to sully the tires on his silver Mercedes with your brains,” Toph interjects wisely.

“You really know how to flatter a guy, Toph.”

“Thank you.”

The bell rings, and after some taunts pass around, their little gang breaks up. Katara and Momo, Toph’s seeing eye dog, assist her to Geology class. She’s probably the only person in the whole school who willingly learns about rocks -- she’s weirdly obsessed with them. Students crowd into the hallways and Sokka’s in no mood to get trampled before fifth, so he speeds up his walk. Aang catches up. 

“Where’s the fire?” the shorter boy pants.

“Already got five tardies to Chem this week. Bumi’ll have my head.” Sokka faces him fondly. “Isn’t AP world history that way?”

“It is,” Aang says, “but I wanted to talk to you. Boy-to-boy -- man-to-man.”

“Oh God, Aang,” Sokka’s voice drops, “I thought we went over this already. Lotion makes it better because there’ll be less friction—”

“No!” Aang’s face colors rapidly. “That’s not what I wanted to discuss.”

Sokka pauses outside the door of his classroom, puzzled. “Oh. What is it then?”

“It’s about… Uh.” Aang looks nervous, which is weird, because Aang is almost never nervous. His friends agree that he carries himself with a sort of joyful grace, the rare innocent kind that’s found in very few people. “It’s about…” The boy looks around, then fixates his stare at one person. “It’s about Zuko!”

Aang says his name so loudly that many people turn around to look at them. Blushing furiously, Sokka says, “Might as well use a megaphone next time.”

“Sorry.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Um -- I was gonna say. He’s a jerk. A big, old jerk for trying to kill you.”

“I doubt he was trying to _kill_ me…” Sokka looks up to see Zuko glaring at them from across the hall. “Well, maybe.”

“Yeah. He’s a weird guy. Sometimes I feel bad though. I like Katara.”

“He is weird -- what?”

“Please don’t kill me, okay? But I have a giant crush on your sis—”

“No, I mean -- why would you feel bad for him?” Sokka stares at him incredulously. “I know you’re a nice guy and all, but this is Zuko we’re talking about here! Zuko, spoiled, pompous, rude, arrogant Zuko. Zuko who fakes injuries, Zuko who tried to run me over. Zuko!”

Looking rather taken-aback, Aang blinks. Slowly, he says, “Well, yeah. But c’mon, Sokka, he’s still a person too. And you know how mean his father is to the whole city. Maybe that’s where him and his sister learned to be mean.”

Sokka shakes his head in apparent wonderment. “You know, Aang, I do admire you. Always trying to find the good in everything, including Zuko, who has no good whatsoever.” He sighs, then stops. “Wait a moment, you have a crush on—”

“Gotta get to History!” he says, already jogging away. “I’ll see you later.”

Sokka stares after him, mouth slightly agape. A harsh push snaps him out of it. It’s Zuko, of course, entering the class. Sokka follows him, not without flipping him off first, and takes his seat in the back of the room. Sighing, he takes out his notebook, then pretends to jot down notes when he’s really blankly staring. His lab partner is a girl named Ty Lee, ditzy, rich and pretty. If he was into boobs, he’d totally be staring at hers right now.

“How was your day, Sokka?” she whispers to him, giggling.

“Oh!” He wipes the drool off his face -- he was in a nice daydream before she’d interrupted. “Uh, it’s been good.”

“Sorry to hear about the race. I was rooting for you, y’know.” This is ironic, for Ty Lee is one of Azula’s best friends. Her other close companion is -- 

“Mai!” The chemistry teacher’s usual enthusiastic voice disappears as he chastises. “If Zuko is more interesting to you than my class, feel free to leave.”

Sokka can see the back of her neck redden from his chair. He snorts and Ty Lee joins in. “Oh, they’re so flippity-floppity,” she whispers, “old Zu-Zu’s trying to get with her again.”

He rolls his eyes. A sudden sour taste has entered his mouth. “The two of them are probably so cold during sex, that their sheets turn to ice.”

It’s not even that funny, but Ty Lee laughs loudly, garnering the attention of their teacher. Sokka swears he can see a vein pop in Mr. Bumi’s forehead. 

“My class is not some place for flirting!” he yells. “Sokka, switch with Mai. Now!”

Now this, this he can’t do. Zuko’s head turns so fast a bone has probably cracked, an extremely angry look on his face. Sokka’s frozen with horror.

“Are you deaf, boy?!” Bumi roars. “Switch. With. Mai.”

Zuko turns around again, honeyed words dropping from his lips, and Sokka prays that his stupid charm will actually work. “Sir, I’m not sure that’ll be such a good idea, as me and Mai are well-matched in academics and—”

“I don’t care! I. Don’t. Care. My classroom, my rules. Sokka, switch with Mai right now or I’ll make sure Coach Piandao can never enlist you in another team again! Same goes for you, Zuko.”

God, Sokka hates high school. He stands up and picks up his things angrily, walking to his new spot in a haze of red so hastily that he doesn’t even notice the teary shimmer in Ty Lee’s eyes. This new arrangement has to be the worst thing to happen to him, ever. Well, after his mother’s death.

He sits down huffily, dropping his books with a loud thud. Bumi shakes his head and continues to lecture, his voice returning back to its normal chippy tone. Before Sokka creates a border with his textbooks, he glances at Zuko, whose irate stare is fixed at the projector. _Fuck him_ , he thinks angrily, adding _The Grapes of Wrath_ onto his pile. There. It’s secure now.

As soon as Bumi dismisses them to do their experiment and it’s okay to talk to them, Zuko destroys the pile with one hand, dropping the books to the floor. Sokka stares at him angrily, opening his mouth but he’s interrupted by Zuko’s heated words: “Can’t you keep your dick in your pants?!”

Sokka gasps -- a little dramatically, but whatever. “Can’t YOU? You’re the one who’s trying to get with your girlfriend -- for the millionth time, may I add -- during a LECTURE.”

“Well see, Sokka,” Zuko grabs a pair of safety goggles, his nostrils flaring, “some of us don’t have to pay attention in class all the time because we do this thing called studying. So next time you try to get with Ty Lee, keep that in mind.”

Sokka’s about to answer that he is NOT trying to get with Ty Lee and that Zuko should go fuck himself, but he stops. He exhales loudly. It’s best to just get this experiment over with without any more unnecessary complications.

Muttering under his breath, Zuko begins to read some instruction sheet. He hands it to Sokka silently. Sokka attempts to read the words and understand them, he really does, but it all becomes a blur.

“—Eighteen mL of H202,” he mumbles, pouring expertly.

“Don’t you mean H20?” Sokka asks.

Zuko stops and stares at him with a _you-seriously-cannot-be-this-dumb_ expression, then continues as if he isn’t even there. Sokka huffs and leans against the lab table, watching him measure and pour and whatever. It’s not exactly entertaining.

“At least let me do something,” he says after a while, breaking the silence. 

Zuko snorts, not even glancing in Sokka’s direction. As some blue liquid bubbles, he says, “I’d sooner drink this.”

“Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it, alright!” Sokka snaps. “I’m not fucking incompetent.”

“Hm. Could’ve fooled me.” 

Sokka angrily snatches the yellow instruction sheet. “Which step are we on?” The insufferable brat doesn’t answer so he tries again, “Well?!”

Zuko jots down some more notes until he says, rather absent-mindedly, “Four.”

Finally. Sokka squints at the instruction sheet, grabs the materials needed, reads the instructions again, and hesitantly pours the liquid. It hisses and the color changes from blue to green in a matter of seconds, and bubbles very rapidly. Sokka’s no expert in chemistry, but he’s pretty sure that’s not a good thing.

“Um,” he begins, just as Zuko looks up. 

“Are you SERIOUS?” Zuko says, jumping off his stool. “You sabotaged my experiment!”

“ _Our_ experiment,” Sokka corrects, blushing because he’s very aware that literally everyone is staring. He adds defensively, “Besides, you told me we were on step four, so I just—”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did, you said ‘four’ when I asked you what step we were on and—”

It all happens very quickly. Bumi arrives to see what’s going on, and just as the man opens his mouth, the experiment explodes right on him.

He can’t exactly pull off singed eyebrows.

Right after the explosion, the classroom is deadly quiet. With gritted teeth, Zuko breaks the silence. “...I was referring to my notes. How we had to time the experiment for four minutes.”

Sokka swallows. “Oh.”

Bumi wipes the green frost off his face. His mustache, only half saved, shakes in anger as he demands, “Both of you, go get the cleaning supplies. NOW.”

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Zuko doesn’t like breakfast. He doesn’t give a fuck about all that “most important meal of the day” propaganda. Since he’s trying to regain his sports titles, though, he attempts to wolf down some of his homemade waffles (Azula refuses to cook).

He looks out the window, engrossed in thought. Sports aren’t the only thing he’s trying to get back into his life. He’s trying to get all of it back, for his pathway to success has been severely slowed these past few months. After the whole… incident. But that’s in the past.

He needs to prove himself. To the world, to his father. Mostly his father, though. Zuko is the son Ozai has always wanted, he’ll show him.

Zuko has constructed a plan during his long moments alone, and he’s going to get started today. It shouldn’t be too hard. His stomach churns unpleasantly, so he gets up, meal unfinished. He winces as his leg brushes past the table, grabbing a waffle and wrapping it in tissue paper, though he doubts he’ll end up eating it.

There’s a Mercedes-sized absence in the garage. Typical. Azula’s taken it without even asking if he needed a ride (which he does). But it’s a nice day, so Zuko will walk. Zuko likes to walk.

The city is alive, even in the early morning. The blue, cloudless sky spurs his hope that things will actually fall into place. He just needs to put in a bit of effort. That’s it. Zuko strolls alongside the recently-paved street (probably his father’s doing), until he notes a frail old woman slumped in a corner, holding up a cardboard sign: RECENTLY EVICTED. ANYTHING HELPS.

Truthfully, this is probably his father’s doing as well. Zuko looks away and continues to walk, hands in his pockets, hair in his face. A middle-school girl giggles and blushes at the sight of him. She continues to watch, and grins brightly when Zuko goes back to that corner and wordlessly hands the old woman his waffle.

“Bless your heart, son,” the woman croaks gratefully.

Zuko says nothing. He stands there for a few seconds, then pulls out a fifty-dollar bill. He was going to use this to buy Mai something, but there are other ways to woo her.

“Oh no, son,” she says, looking up, “that’s far too much.”

“Take it.”

It doesn’t come across as a harsh demand. His words are soft, gentle, and he wonders what his father would say if he saw him doing this. But Ozai isn’t here. The old woman takes it from him, gratitude evident in her damp eyes.

He arrives at school a bit late -- for Zuko’s standards, anyway -- and spaces out during classes. His attention is brought back when his English teacher hands him his graded essay. Zuko looks at the 75 in horror.

 _Your writing isn’t showing enough bravery_ , she’s written, alongside a frowny face. He crumples the paper in his hand. He’ll show her bravery when he finds a way to remove her from her job.

Whatever. Zuko has bigger things to worry about than one lousy grade, so he dodges the considerable number of people that try to congratulate him about the race and heads to the table where the “popular” group sits. Usually, Mai is seated there, right next to Azula. But both of them are gone.

“They had a feeling you’d try to talk to Mai,” Ty Lee supplies as he sits down.

Zuko rolls his eyes. “Where’ve they gone?”

“Somewhere fancy, with Mr. Smythe. There’s something creepy about that,” Ty Lee chatters, “I don’t care if they’re his TAs, he’s like eighty and should not be having off-campus lunches with his underage students! I guess he is kind of hot, but woo, I can smell the viagra! What do you think, Z? Do you think Mr. Smythe is hot?”

“No.”

“Yeah, same, now that I think about it.” Ty Lee stops, considering. She catches Zuko’s disinterested expression and to engage him, she rests her face on his shoulder and asks, “So you really want to get with Mai again?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because. Because—” Zuko struggles to explain. He tenses, dodging the subject. “Will she be back for Bumi?”

“Mai would never miss a class, Z! Knock some sense into your pretty head.” She pretends to hit him, but then actually hits him.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Dunno. You’re boring when you're sulky. Which is always.”

The bell rings, and together they walk to chemistry. Ty Lee talks the whole time, of course, and Zuko lets her. They stop at his locker and suddenly her tone changes, “...Oh, he’s so cute. Isn’t he so cute, Z?”

“Sure.” He struggles to take out his heavy textbook.

“That just proves you aren’t listening,” she says irritatedly, “I was calling _him_ cute.”

Zuko’s about to ask “who” but the question is already answered when one of Sokka’s annoying friends decides to shout his fucking name, along with some other words he can’t make out. He angrily squints at them from across the hall.

He slams his locker shut. “Upgrade your taste, Ty Lee.”

Zuko pushes past Sokka and enters the classroom. He takes his seat and as he stares at the door, waiting for Mai to walk in, he can hear Ty Lee energetically greet that idiot, who returns the hello with enough enthusiasm. Zuko rolls his eyes. If they actually get together… well, that would be fucking stupid. It’s irritating. Because Ty Lee’s too good for him, period. 

The image of them dating replays in his head; it’s so repulsive that he doesn’t even notice Mai until she takes her seat next to him. Zuko snaps out of it immediately.

“Hey,” he says, flushing.

“Hello, Zuko.” Mai’s indifferent tone isn’t the most encouraging. Zuko sucks in a deep breath.

“How was your lunch?”

“Fine.”

They sit in silence as the lunatic teacher, Mr. Bumi, begins to talk about acids and bases like long-lost lovers. Zuko tries again by whispering, “You know, those ratty old apartments my father bought became this new mall, we could go—”

Her long black hair swishes as she faces him irritatedly. “Cut to the chase, Zuko.”

He exhales. “Listen, Mai, I think we were really good together.”

“No, we weren’t.”

Zuko ignores this. “We’re unstoppable together, both smart, both attractive; everyone’s jealous of us. We’re an amazing duo. Besides, my father respects you a lot.”

“I could care less about what your father thinks of me, Zuko.”

He ignores this as well. “Please, Mai. I know you still have feelings for me. We have bright futures ahead of us and it makes perfect sense to spend them together.”

“God, is everything about practicalities to you?” Mai’s voice rises, the neutralness finally diminishing. “I don’t want to be your trophy girlfriend or whatever the fuck!”

“Shh, Mai, keep your voice down—”

“No, Zuko. I only want to be with you if you ACTUALLY like me—”

Bumi’s quick to interrupt. “Mai! If Zuko is more interesting to you than my class, feel free to leave.” 

Both of them blush. The class stares at them and he hears Ty Lee laugh loudly, no doubt at what something Sokka said. 

The teacher slams his notes on the desk. “My class is not some place for flirting! Sokka, switch with Mai.”

Zuko turns around immediately. Sokka’s staring at Bumi, eyes wide and blue. When he catches Zuko’s stare, they narrow challengingly. That little shit.

“Are you deaf, boy?!” the teacher booms. 

Zuko turns around again. Without raising his hand, he tries to placate, “Sir, I’m not sure that’ll be such a good idea, as me and Mai are well-matched in academics—”

Bumi’s not one to fall for anything, though. He barks again angrily, and both Sokka and Mai move begrudgingly. He watches her walk away, wondering why the hell nothing works out for him. Point proven by Sokka slamming his books on their now shared desk.

He’s really immature enough to create a _border_ between them. To be fair, Zuko would’ve done the same if Sokka hadn't done it first. He grits his teeth and doesn’t even look at him. As soon as they’re dismissed to do the experiment, however, he destroys the stupid pile.

“Can’t you keep your dick in your pants?” Zuko snaps.

Sokka gasps, emitting another eye-roll from Zuko. “Can’t you?! You’re the one who’s trying to get with your girlfriend -- for the millionth time, may I add -- during a LECTURE.”

He stomps his feet as he grabs a pair of safety goggles. “Well, see, Sokka. Some of us don’t have to pay attention in class all the time because we do this thing called studying. So next time you try to get with Ty Lee, keep that in mind.”

Sokka opens his mouth to say something, then looks away angrily. The two of them don’t talk as Zuko begins to do all the work, until Sokka asks a stupid question. He doesn’t even answer, just continues working. Zuko wishes this period would hurry up so he can talk to Mai.

“At least let me do something,” Sokka says, breaking the silence. Now that’s funny.

“I’d sooner drink this,” Zuko says, fixated at the experiment working out smoothly. 

“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it, alright!” the boy snaps. “I’m not fucking incompetent.”

“Hm. Could’ve fooled me.” Zuko tunes him out after that. He’s mastered that art after long nights of his parents fighting—nights that no longer exist now, of course. But it’s still handy to keep that skill. Next thing he knows, though, Bumi, stained green, has no eyebrows and the two of them are walking to the fucking supply closet. 

“You are seriously so fucking idiotic,” Zuko informs him none-too-gently as they enter the small space, looking for bleach and paper towels.

“Yeah? You too,” Sokka retorts, looking for the light-switch.

Zuko turns to face him angrily. “I’m not the one who messed up the whole experiment! And hey -- quit pushing me!”

“I’m not pushing you,” Sokka snaps. He nudges against him and Zuko pushes away instinctively, which results in the two of them toppling over onto some cleaning supplies. One of their feet catches the door and it slams shut.

Zuko stands up first, rubbing his leg. “Are you fucking kidding me,” he says aloud when the door doesn’t budge.

Suddenly, the room is flooded with light, so he can see Sokka grin proudly. “Found the light switch.”

“Now find a fucking key!” Zuko snaps. “We’re locked in here.”

“Let me try,” he says, pushing past him and groping the door handle roughly. He rubs his temple. “Okay, yeah, we’re locked in here.”

“Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse,” Zuko grumbles, sitting down. He slumps in the corner.

“Chill, alright? The janitor’s gonna have to come sometime.” Sokka settles himself right next to door, as far away from Zuko as possible. They sulk in silence. Thinking isn’t the same when you aren’t alone, but Zuko tries to go over what he’ll say to Mai. Hopefully all will go well. It wouldn’t be total redemption in his father’s eyes, but still, he’ll get to the point where it’s --

“Why do you keep doing that?” Sokka interrupts. Strands of brown hair fall in front of his face as he faces him curiously.

“Doing what?” Zuko says irritatedly.

“Rubbing yourself.” A beat of silence, and then, “I meant your fucking leg -- why do you keep rubbng your leg?”

“Because it’s injured, dumbass!” he snaps.

“Oh, righttt. Your ‘injured’ leg.”

“No need for the quotation marks.” Zuko huffs. “You’re just enraged and jealous that I beat you even with an injury.”

“Yeah, whatever, there’s not a cast or anything.” Sokka crosses his arms. “Besides, I’ll beat you next time.”

“If it helps you sleep at night.”

“I’ll be named most valuable athlete. Sorry to break it to ya.” Sokka laughs. “You’ll get so angry your car’ll crash into Bumi’s classroom and run me over. Then my ghost will haunt you forever.”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. I wasn’t trying to fucking kill you, as sweet the temptation is. My target was your legs, so you could try and run with an injury. You wouldn’t even be able to walk a step.” He sighs. “Good thing Azula stopped me, though. Knowing you, you’d milk that shit to try and be on TV.”

Sokka scoffs. “If it helps you sleep at night.”

The heavy silence envelops them once more. Zuko’s wondering when the hell the janitor will fucking get here when Sokka says, “You’re right.”

“I always am. But what’re you referring to?”

There’s a sly smile on his face. “I don’t think you were trying to kill me either. In fact, I think you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if I died.”

“What are you even saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m the reason why you’re so competitive. You’re always trying to beat me, and you do, so you keep using me as your little yardstick. But that’ll end soon, I promise.”

“You think far too highly of yourself.”

“And you don’t?” Sokka asks. “Your head’s so big I wondered how it fit inside this closet.”

Zuko sneers. “Well, your brain’s so minuscule I’m always wondering how the hell you haven’t repeated a year yet.”

“Coach Piandao says to think with the gut and not the mind,” Sokka recounts wisely, and Zuko has no choice but to roll his eyes for what feels like the millionth time. “He really aids me, y’know. Always giving me little tips on how to improve.”

“Yeah, you need a whole ass coach to do anything.”

“And you just have daddy’s money,” Sokka quickly retorts. He pauses and struggles with himself for a second before saying, “I’m sorry for saying that thing about your mom leaving. It was really douchey of me.”

Zuko’s head tilts. There’s no amusement on Sokka’s face or any sarcasm in his tone. He clears his throat and nods. “Okay.”

“Okay -- that’s all you’re going to say? _Okay_?”

“What else should I say?”

“Hm, I don’t know -- maybe _I’m sorry for trying to run you over_?!”

“Like you said,” Zuko flares up, “I wasn’t trying to murder you!”

Sokka grumbles under his breath and stares at the wall. Zuko’s leg bounces as he glances at his watch. Seriously, where the fuck is the janitor?

After six minutes, Zuko can’t take it anymore. “Well, say something!”

Sokka is genuinely taken aback. “What?”

“You’re always running your fucking mouth, so why have you stopped?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Is it too much for you to believe that I genuinely don’t enjoy talking to you? I was trying to be polite by apologizing, but you were just a dick. As usual.”

Zuko grits his teeth. “Fine. Fine. I’m fucking sorry.”

Sokka smirks. “Really?”

“YES!” 

“Jeez, you’re convincing.” He yawns. “OK, I forgive you, I guess. Even though you scream like a mixture of a banshee, Bumi and Trollface.”

“Who the fuck is Trollface?”

“Um, you know. That giant senior in our track team. Smells like mayo?”

Zuko wrinkles his nose. “You’re talking about Derrick Chesterson. He’s just a waste of space. You’re brighter than him, believe it or not -- he once asked me if Bangladesh was in China during our Geography final.”

Sokka laughs, and Zuko finds himself smiling too. Almost immediately, he finds himself feeling a strong sense of dejavu… 

_Students were supposed to spend lunchtimes indoors when it rained, but Zuko didn’t care. He didn’t want to eat inside the crowded, middle school gymnasium when he felt like this. His mood mirrored the thick grey clouds, and although the silver bleachers were slippery, he still felt more comfortable out here than he would be in there._

_He kicked at the muddy ground angrily. It spoiled his white shoes but he didn’t care -- didn’t care until he thought about what his father would say. He’d be angry, no doubt, for the sneakers were new and Zuko didn’t want to enrage him further. Shuddering, Zuko attempted to wipe the mud off on the bleachers. It wasn’t working. Angered, he took off one shoe and shook it. It was still stained._

_Frustrated tears gathered in his eyes and Zuko began to sniffle. He immediately stopped when he heard someone whistle from beneath the benches. Wiping his nose irritatedly, he jumped and looked underneath the bleachers. He was not prepared to find Sokka doing jumping jacks in the rain._

_“You look so stupid,” Zuko sneered. Taunting him would make him feel better, of course._

_Sokka stopped and stared. His eyes narrowed. They were so blue it pissed Zuko off. “Well, you look stupid too. Why are you crying outside when we’re supposed to be outside?”_

_“I—what?” Zuko reflexively touched his eyes. “I was not crying!”_

_“Your eyes are a bit red, Zu-Zu,” Sokka said. There was a sudden change in his voice, a sympathetic edge. “Is it because of your mom? I heard about it from—”_

_“SHUT UP!” he shouted. “Shut up about my mother!”_

_Sokka’s hands shot up. “Chill. I wasn’t trying to—”_

_“Shut up,” Zuko said again, this time his voice breaking. “Just shut -- just shut up.” He buried his face in his hands. He wasn’t aware of Sokka coming towards him and putting his hand on Zuko’s shoulder._

_“Don’t touch me,” he said weakly. Sokka ignored this and said, his voice low, “I really am sorry about it. Your mom was nice to me a few weeks ago, after the science fair. She apologized on your behalf. Said that you get too hot-headed but that you were a nice boy and maybe one day we could be friends.”_  
_Zuko wiped his eyes and stared at him. Sokka was very close now and a forbidden, scary thought passed through him: he was pretty. Zuko almost laughed. That was absurd. Boys aren’t pretty. Luckily the intrusive feeling went away as quickly as it came._

_“Why were you doing jumping jacks?” he asked, looking away._

_Sokka blushed. “I was training. Some private school jerk told Aang he wants to fight him, so I’m trying to train as his second-hand.”_

_“Well, make sure you knee him in the balls. That always works.”_

_Sokka laughed, and Zuko smiled too. Suddenly he touched the side of his face where, unbeknownst to Zuko, would be scarred just two years from now._

_“What are you—”_

_“There was a bug on you,” Sokka said. His eyes were so big that Zuko could see the reflection of the clouds in them. His smile was sheepish as he added, “Sorry…”_

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Sokka wonders how life has gotten to this point. Sharing a laugh with fucking Zuko, of all people. Suddenly, the closet door opens. It’s not the janitor. It’s Mai.

“Figured you were stuck here,” she says, helping him up. Zuko embraces her.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he grins.

Sokka snorts and gets up. His arms are crossed as the two of them begin to converse in not-very silent voices.

“So, did you get time to think about my question?” Mai asks, her eyes narrowed. “Do you want to date me for me?” It looks like Zuko is wracking his brain until he nods. 

“Um, yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck and is about to say something, but then fixes his gaze at Sokka. “I’m sorry, does this look like a fucking TV show to you?”

Sokka hopes that his surprise doesn’t show. It’s insane, how quickly Zuko’s abrasiveness returns. It really shouldn’t be a surprise. But for a few crazy moments inside that little closet, Sokka thought that maybe Aang’s words are true: Zuko may have some good in him after all.

“Fuck you, Scarface,” he snaps. “You guys are blocking the way.”

The two step aside and begin to converse in low tones. Sokka hears them kiss as he walks away, but since he doesn’t look back, he’ll never know that Zuko’s gaze was still directed towards him, even during their little makeout session. Sokka’s too engrossed in some fucking dejavu anyways.

_It was fifth grade and Sokka was ready to fight. Even though it was cold outside, he did some push-ups on the muddy ground, groaning when it stuck to his hands. He wiped it on the bleachers and started to do some jumping jacks instead. Of course he was rudely interrupted by Zuko._

_“You look so stupid,” he said._

_Sokka was ready to retort, but he caught the tears stuck to Zuko’s long lashes. His golden eyes were red-rimmed. So even as he continued being a jerk, Sokka decided to do the right thing and comfort him about his mom. It didn’t even turn out so bad: Zuko even made him laugh for the first time ever._

_A small fly rested on Zuko’s pale cheek and Sokka unconsciously flicked it away, as gently as possible. It was weird how smooth his face is. Sokka flushed as Zuko said, “What are you—”_

_“There was a bug on you.” He coughed. “Sorry.”_

_“‘S okay,” Zuko said. The two stared at each other until footsteps made their way to their spot. It was Azula and some of Zuko's other friends, two mean-looking guys and two girls, one looking extremely bored and the other waving at Sokka._

_“Brother, what are you doing here?”_

_Zuko stepped away quickly, as if burned. “Nothing.”_

_“He’s a little upset,” Sokka said. Zuko turned his head around and glared at him: why would he be mad? Sokka wasn’t trying to mean. “About his mom and all. I’m sorry about that, Azula.”_

_The little girl laughed. “Do you really think your apology makes a difference to me? I could care less about my mother’s departure or you.”_

_Her friends chortled, except the giggly girl, and Sokka blushed. “Well I was just—”_

_“Nor does Zuko.” Azula redirected her attention to her brother. “Zuko, do you care about what Sokka, of all people, thinks about our family’s situation?”_

_Sokka didn’t notice how Zuko swallowed before saying, “Of course not.”_

_Azula wasn’t satisfied, however. She stepped closer towards him. “You don’t sound very convincing. Don’t tell me you’d rather hang out with some kid who can’t even afford school lunch. Father doesn’t want you going on the wrong side, you know.”_

_Zuko’s head snapped up quickly. “He was the one who approached me. Quit it, Azula.”_

_“That’s not true—” Sokka began, angry now._

_“I think he was trying to get my shoes. Even though they’re stained with mud, it’s worth more than everything inside his house.” His friends laughed, and Zuko untied his shoe. He pretended to hand it to Sokka, but he actually took it from him._

_Sokka pretended to inspect the sneaker before launching it at Zuko’s face. His friends’ laughter increased as Sokka stormed away, his good mood vanished. God, what was he thinking -- comforting Zuko, of all people?_

_He wouldn’t have such a close interaction with Zuko until the supply closet, all those years lately. Sokka felt like he didn’t know much, but he was confident about this: despite what Zuko’s nice mother had said, Sokka could never, ever be friends with a boy such as him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omfg transferring work from docs is so frusturating, someone please let me know how to preserve italics when you copy paste!! also leave a comment on what you think about this chapter lmao hope yall are enjoying it so far!!


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